"So how long was Armory out of action?" Caboose asked, "I mean, he couldn't have been that banged up. I fell out of a clock tower for crying out loud, and I'm A-OK."
"Well, that's the difference between you and I. From what I've heard, you had a fellow Royal Guard to break your fall." Armory snorted. "I had only a very hard medical carriage to break mine."
"...Hmm, I guess that would make a big difference." Caboose cringed.
"Either way, it took weeks for me to fully heal." Armory declared. "I was laid up in bed for most of it. While I was grateful to be alive, I did not enjoy all the mind-numbing boredom that followed."
"You should count yourself lucky." Black sighed. "I had a different kind of problem..."
Many years ago...
About a week about their encounter with Sweet Tooth, Black was visiting Armory. Armory was still covered in plaster and bandages, but he was slowly healing.
"Hey, pal." Black smiled weakly, as he entered the room. "How ya doin'?"
"As well as you'd expect." Armory smiled. "At least I'm not dead though, right?"
"Right." Black nodded awkwardly. "And I would have been dead myself if you hadn't stepped in."
"That's what friends- and teammates- do for each other." Armory grinned. "And I'd do it again."
"Thanks, pal." Black smiled. "But I'd prefer you didn't. I think I've lost enough friends for one lifetime."
"Oh, don't worry." Armory smirked. "I think for the future, I'll leave the heroics to you. It's a lot less painful that way."
"Speaking of pain... it doesn't still hurt, does it?" Black frowned.
"Nah, not really." Armory shrugged. "Honestly, the worst part is the boredom. I'm lying in here, doing nothing, with the most exciting part of my day being the mealtimes. I can't tell you how much I want to get back into my workshop, and start tinkering with my new gadgets."
"Guess that's gonna have to wait, huh?" Black said sadly.
"Yeah." Armory nodded. "Now I know how you must have felt while you were recovering from your fall down the mountain."
"Yeah, but I at least had Belle's comfy guest room bed to sleep in." Black noted. "All you have is this linen joke."
"If it makes you feel better, I can barely feel it at all through all these bandages and casts." Armory declared.
"Funnily enough, it doesn't." Black sighed. "Because comfortable or not, you're still stuck here."
"Tell me about it." Armory frowned. "For an active pony like me, inactivity is just the worst. You know what I'm talking about, right? After all, I could tell that you were bored out of your skull during that lull we had a while back."
"Yeah, I was." Black nodded. "But I was just stuck in the base. You're stuck here in this room."
"Hey, don't worry about it." Armory smiled. "It won't last forever. I'll be back on my hooves soon enough. Even if I won't exactly be at a hundred percent, at least I'll out of this lousy bed."
"Sure you will." Black smiled awkwardly. "And I'll be there to welcome you back to the land of the mobile."
"Okay, time for lunch." Triage brought forth a plate of food. "Black, I'm afraid you'll have to leave for now. I have to do a few checkups."
"You're the doc." Black shrugged.
"See ya later, Black!" Armory waved.
"Yeah, later..." Black kept up the smile.
Once Black led the medical unit, the smile dropped, as he was once more overcome with feelings of guilt.
'It's because of me that you're in there, Armory.' He thought. 'Because I let you come with me on that mission. Because I was too weak to stop that psycho. Too slow to get you back up before his neck gave out. It's all my fault...'
Later that evening, over at Infinity, Pike was not in a good mood, as he stewed in one of the lounge rooms within the monastery, sitting at a bar with a shot of whiskey. Last week, he had watched the newscast of ponies discovering Sweet Tooth's headless body. He was besides himself with frustration and anger. Sweet Tooth, despite his psychosis, was one of his best chances at defeating Black once and for all.
'But alas, Black is still breathing, and Sweet Tooth is dead.' Pike thought bitterly. 'Another ding to the Black Sheep division's list of failures. And surely, one of the 'high and mighty' Ouroboros will be by to rub it in my-'
"Pike..."
'Right on cue.' Pike groaned.
Pike glanced to the right to see Loveless standing there in his wheelchair, giving the kind of frown a scolding parent would give to his child.
"What do you want, Loveless?" Pike growled.
"It has been brought to our attention that your plan regarding Sweet Tooth has failed." Loveless frowned deeply. "Once more, you and your Black Sheep have failed to eliminate your quarry."
"That dumbass got lucky." Pike growled. "Sweet Tooth was cursed with the power of hell. There was no way Black could had defeated him, not unless he had help."
"Luck or not, Pike, I am starting to see a pattern." Loveless scowled. "First, Talbolt getting tricked by them in Trottingham, then the Las Pegasus fiasco, and now Sweet Tooth's dead. To be honest, the clown's death is the only good thing that has come out of all this."
"Hey, have some respect." Pike glared. "Sweet Tooth was a crazy killer clown, but he was still one of my guys. And I don't appreciate you hounding my ass whenever 'we' do something wrong. I don't know why you even care about Black, Loveless. I didn't think you had it out for him too."
"I don't." Loveless admitted. "But I figured it'd best if I was the one to keep tabs on you and the Black Sheep, rather than say, Gridlock. I feel he would have been less forgiving."
"At this point, I can hardly tell the difference." Pike sneered.
"Look, I know this isn't pleasant for you, Pike, really, I do." Loveless sighed, "But unfortunately, the others back at the Coils don't share my patience, and it's only a matter of time before all these snafus reaches Father."
"Well, you can tell your buddies up there that we will get him." Pike snarled. "Black is going to get his, mark my words."
"I would, if I felt you were capable of backing them up." Loveless frowned.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Pike glared.
"I do not wish to question your talents, Pike. I had know you for a while to do that." Loveless declared. "However, I cannot say the same for the Black Sheep division. That whole group of yours are nothing but loose cannons, certifible loonies, and just plain awful operatives."
"Oh, and you Ouroboros and all the other agents are any better?" Pike challenged.
"There is a reason we called all those ponies Black Sheep." Loveless frowned. "They're just thugs whom Father deemed a hindrance to the grand scheme of things. Be it their violent tendencies, their incompetence, or just plain insanity, their only application would be if we needed extra meatbags. Surely you must had known that the moment you decided to take charge of the division."
"Hey, for the record, the division has been doing better since I took over." Pike growled, "Not that any of you would care..."
"Well, I do care." Loveless declared. "In fact, if you recall, Father and I and surely others had offered you a spot in Ouroboros a couple of time before. Yet every time, you declined. Why would you continue to lead these goons when you deserve so much more?"
"Maybe because I don't give a crap about what Father wants." Pike scowled. "That what makes us Black Sheep different. We don't go around brown-nosing, just to please 'Father'. We do things on our own terms. We have our freedom. If you don't like that, then that's your problem."
"Normally, I wouldn't argue with a logic like that, but the fact that you associate yourself with Scalphunter and his... 'pal'... well, I am only concerned, because I know you are better than this. Better than the likes of them." Loveless urged.
"Yeah... heard that before." Pike grumbled, as stood up from the bar.
"Look, why don't you just give up on Black?" Loveless asked. "I believe it would be best for you to quit while before any more of your division gets lead to slaughter. I'm sure Gridlock or somepony would be willing to take over-"
"No thanks. I'd rather be dead than have some sonofvadraft-horse like mister bug boy take my kill." Pike grunted.
"So only you can kill Black?" Loveless asked.
"Exactly." Pike nodded.
"You musn't let your pride rule you." Loveless declared. "The simple truth, there are some fights you just can't win."
"Oh, but I can win this one." Pike growled. "Black was lucky the last time we fought. Next time will be different. And I intend for there to be a next time. I'll track that scum down to the ends of Equestria and back, if I have to..."
"Clearly, this is becoming an obsession with you." Loveless noted. "It would be beneficial to your mental health to call it quits."
"What was that?!" Pike growled.
"...What?" Loveless frowned.
"Are you saying I'm losing it?!" Pike snarled. "That trying to ice Black is messing with my head? Well, are you?!"
"I didn't say that." Loveless shook his head. "I just suggested that your desire to terminate Black is becoming detrimental to your mental state."
"...Fair warning, Loveless." Pike seethed coldly. "Unless you want me to send my hoof on an expedition to find your missing ass, you'd better not say another word." He then stormed off. "Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna go catch up on my sleep. I'll wanna be well-rested when I finally have that scum at my mercy... Plus, it does wonders for my complexion."
As Pike walked into his quarters, he made his way to a dresser, which had a small, bird-shaped brooch on it. He picked up the piece of jewellery and gazed at it.
"I love you, Red..." A familar voice rang out in his head.
Pike shook himself as he set the brooch down.
'That's enough of that... you must have drank a little too much.' He told himself. 'Gotta get some shut eye. You need to be at your best when you finally take down Black. Killing scum like him is what you live for... it's the only thing you live for...'
Pike took off his glasses as he then climbed into bed and soon doze off. As he slumbered, old memories flooded into his mind....
Years ago...
It was a warm sunny day in the town of Point Place, Wiscoltsin. Birds were singing, bees were buzzing, the sounds of a guitar strumming and drum beating were playing, as if it was a part of a sitcom's theme song.
A younger Pike was making his way to a picturesque suburban home, one that he shared with his wife Kitty, his son Spear and his daughter Barbs. It was just another day in his pleasant life as he returned home from working at a carriage parts plant. All he wanted to do was to come home and be with his loving family.
"Kitty! Kids! I'm home!" He called, as he entered the house.
Nopony answered him, however. In fact, the house seems disturbingly quiet.
"Kitty?" Pike frowned, looking around. "Kids?"
Pike searched all the rooms downstairs, including the kitchen and living room.
"Kitty?" PIke called out, "Spear? Barbs?"
He then decided to check downstairs in the basement. His son and his friends usually hang down there, especially in a circle, partaking of a very popular substance that was all the rage.
"Spear. If this is one of you and your dumbass friends' pranks, I'm gonna be shipping my hoof up to your ass!" Pike threatened, as he came down the stairs.
However, as soon as Pike came to the basement, he saw no one, and smell no traces of certain 'substances'.
'What the hell is going on 'round here?' He thought, returning from the basement, as he decided to check upstairs.
"Kitty? Kitty?" Pike called, deafening silence being the only response.
Soon, he found himself at his and Kitty's bedroom, with the door slightly ajar. Hesitantly, Pike opened the door.
What lied beyond it was a most horrid sight.
"No... no..." Pike gasped, his legs growing weak, as he then let out a sorrowful roar. "NOOOOOO!!"
Back to now...
Pike suddenly sat up in bed. He was breathing heavily, and covered in a cold sweat.
"Not this again..." He panted heavily. "Not now..."
Over the next couple of weeks, Black was lost in a melancholy fog. He went about his missions in a detached, emotionless way. He was so depressed, he didn't even try to sneak off to see Belle or White. The thought had occured to him as he returned from one mission brought him close to Prairieville, but he ultimately decided against it.
'I shouldn't.' He thought. 'What if I somehow bring trouble with me? Like another one of the Forefathers' flunkies follows me there? I can't risk another pony I care about getting hurt...'
With a heavy heart, Black turned away from Prairieville, and return to headquarters, bringing Elite some recovered files.
"Excellent work, Black." Elite smiled. "You never disappoint."
"I don't know about that..." Black frowned. "I've been feeling petty disappointed in myself for a while now."
"This is about Armory, isn't it?" Elite sighed.
"Yeah." Black nodded. "He almost got killed because of me."
"Well, I hate to be blunt, but Armory did insist on joining you." Elite pointed out. "He came along of his own volition. And from what I understand, he choose to take on Sweet Tooth to save you."
"Yeah, because I was too weak to get the job done myself." Black scowled.
"Even you can't do everything, Black." Elite sighed. "If Armory hadn't been there, Sweet Tooth would have invariably killed you."
"Better me dead than Armory crippled." Black snorted. "If only I'd gotten to him before he fell..."
"He won't be crippled." Elite assured him. "A little stiff, maybe..."
"But he'll still never be the same again." Black shook his head. "Because of me."
"You can't think that way, Black." Elite frowned. "You need to stay positive. It's the best way to keep going in this line of work. You start looking on the dark side, you'll begin losing your optimism. And hope follows suit..."
"If that's all sir, I'd like to return to my quarters." Black said firmly.
"...Of course." Elite nodded. "Just think about what we've just discussed, Black. Please."
"I'll try." Black sighed, as he sttod up.
Black made his way back to his quarters. Elite's words, though wise, were drowned out by Black's own self-recriminations. Black stumbled into his quarters and sat down on his bed. He pulled out his tapeplayer, and donned the headphones.
To the sound of a heartbeat pounding away
To the rhythm of the awful rusted machines
We toss and turn but don't sleep
Each breath we take makes us thieves
Like causes without rebels
Just talk but promise nothing else
We crawl on our knees for you
Under a sky no longer blue
We sweat all day long for you
But we sow seeds to see us through
'Cause sometimes dreams just don't come true
We wait to reap what we are due
To the rhythm of a time bomb ticking away
And the blare of the sirens combing the streets
Chased down like dogs we run from
Your grasp until the sun comes up
We crawl on our knees for you
Under a sky no longer blue
We sweat all day long for you
But we sow seeds to see us through
'Cause sometimes dreams just don't come true
Look now at what they've done to you
'Look at what I've you to you, Armory...' Black thought morosely. 'Some friend I am. I ended up hurting you. Just like Rookie, and White, and all the others...'
The next day, Black made his way to the mess hall, and ate some wheatgrass stew. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but he was looking for something, anything, to take his mind off his woes.
Titan, who was eating out of a bowl nearby, took note of Black's morose appearance, and padded over to join him.
"Rrr?" Titan murmured.
"Hey, big guy." Black sighed. "Nice to have some company."
"Rrf!" Titan barked.
"Maybe I should hang with you from now on." Black declared. "A big, tough Diamond Dog like you is gonna be pretty hard to hurt, let alone kill."
Titan whined plaintively.
"You miss Armory too, huh?" Black patted his head. "And now you're hanging with the guy who landed him in the medical unit in the first place..."
"Rrrf?" Titan frowned. He nudged his head against Black's hoof, trying to let him know that he didn't blame him for Armory's condition.
Black finished the last of his stew.
"Good talk." He said flatly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta hit the obstacle course. Make sure I'm tough enough not to wimp out ever again..."
Titan whined once more as Black walked out of the mess hall. Not particularly for the first time, he wished he could speak pony...
Black made his way to the obstacle course. Shadow was already there, climbing the rock wall nearby.
"Hey, Black." Shadow waved with a free hoof.
"Don't mind me." Black waved back. "Just trying to put a little extra muscle on this bod of mine. Between you and me, I think I've been slacking lately."
"That's not how I see it." Shadow shrugged. "But it's your body, I suppose."
"Yes, it is." Black nodded. And it needs to be in tip-top shape. So I don't see any more failures out in the field."
"If you say so." Shadow frowned.
Black put himself through every piece of training equipment in the area: Treadmill, rope, hurdles, rings, balance beams, and even weights loaded to the maximum. It wasn't long before he was starting to get exhausted. But he refused to stop, putting himself through a torturous regiment, all while an unnerved Shadow.
"Okay..." Black wheezed, after working his way through the climbing frame. "Maybe I should try that rock wall next..."
"Or maybe you should take a break." Shadow frowned. "You're exhausted, Black."
"Hey, no pain, no gain." Black declared.
"But the pain shouldn't outweigh the gain." Shadow pointed out. "You're pushing yourself too far, Black. You keep this up, you're gonna pull something."
"But I have to keep pushing myself." Black insisted. "That fight with Sweet Tooth was a wake-up call. What if the Forefathers have somepony even stronger waiting in the wings? I can't afford to be beaten again. Who knows who might get hurt if I can't cut it?"
"I understand where you're coming from." Shadow nodded. "But you'll be unable to protect anypony if you work your body to its breaking point. Do you think Armory would want that?"
"Armory would want me to be the best that I can be." Black scowled. "Besides, I'm almost done for today. Just gotta climb that wall."
"Even though you already look like you climbed a mountain?" Shadow snorted.
"There's always a higher peak." Black smirked.
Black climbed his way up the wall. Despite his exhaustion, he made it all the way to the top.
"There, see?" He smirked at Shadow. "Piece of caaaake!"
Black's hoof had slipped, and he fell off the wall.
"I got ya!" Shadow caught him.
"Thanks." Black frowned. "Still not good enough, huh?"
"Okay, I think that's enough exercise for today." Shadow frowned.
"Hey, you're not the boss of me." Black glared.
"But Elite is." Shadow declared. "And I'll take this to him if I have to."
"Fine." Black groaned, too weary to fight. "Have it your way. Maybe it's time I took a rest, anyway..."
"The understatement of the decade." Shadow snorted.
"Just a... little... rest..." Black flopped down on the ground, totally exhausted. He was still snoring away as Shadow departed.
"Black, you need to get a handle on things." Shadow frowned. "Before you do something really stupid..."
When Black woke up around an hour later, he realised how stiff and painful his joints were.
"Okay, maybe Shadow had a point." He cringed, as he stood up, shakier than a plate of jello during an earthquake. "That's enough exercise for today..."
Black hobbled into the break room, intent on resting his exhausted self. This break room was not as opulant as the one in the present, but it still had some comfortable chairs, and a small pool table. As he entered, he saw Micro in there also, clearly taking a break from his studies by playing some pool.
"Afternoon, Black." Micro nodded.
"Hey, Mic." Black smiled weakly as he flopped into a chair. "Worked through those papers I brought already, huh?"
"No, just taking a break." Micro shrugged. "I love my work, but I understand the need for recreational activities."
"Like pool?" Black smiled.
"I have a distinct fondness for this particular sport." Micro admitted as he took aim at the cue ball. "In order to succeed, one must calculate angles, plot trajectories... Ultimately, it's one big equation." He then shot the cue ball, causing all the balls to scatter... and all fall into the sockets.
"You eggheads always gotta find the scientific side of things..." Black rolled his eyes.
"You could put it that way, yes." Micro nodded. "But, moving on to another topic, how are you feeling? I know these last couple of weeks have been rather... hard on you."
"You could say that." Black frowned. "Or you could say I royally screwed up, and my friend paid the price."
"If I may, can I offer some counter-analysis?" Micro asked.
"Yeah, go right ahead." Black nodded.
"I believe Armory made the logical choice." Micro declared. "He threw himself into battle against Sweet Tooth to save you. Given Armory's less than optimal physical stature and Sweet Tooth's more than optimal physical stature and that whole 'curse' hoo-ah, Armory's chances of survival was less than ten percent. But he fought him anyways, because he knew it would guarantee that you, one of the Taskforce's best agents, would survive, thus maintaining our chances of bringing down the Forefathers. With all that said, you can't fault him for placing your life above his own."
"Except I still could have saved him, if I were fast enough." Black frowned. "Or if I'd noticed the wire cutting through that nutjob's neck."
"Even I cannot predict every variable." Micro pointed out. "You had no way of knowing what was about to happen. Some things just can't be predicted ahead of time. We should just be thankful that luck was on our side, allowing Armory to live."
"If you're trying to cheer me up, you're doing a heck of a job." Black snorted. "I feel better already."
"Really?" Micro smiled.
"No." Black said flatly. "No matter what fancy science talk you spout out, I know I could've done something to save Armory, if I had only moved fast enough."
"I fail to understand your scientific basis for thinking that." Micro retorted.
"Yeah, well... not everything can be fixed with equations." Black sighed.
Having gotten back some strength in his legs, Black made his way out of the room.
"Oh, dear." Micro frowned. "This is quite a quandry."
It wasn't long before Titan, Shadow and Micro came to Elite's office, airing their worries to him.
"Black is really taking this hard." Shadow declared. "He's pushing himself more than he should."
"And he's intent on wallowing in guilt and self-blame." Micro added. "Logically, it's only a matter of time before his performance is affected, and we have another patient for Triage."
"Rrrooo..." Titan whined morosely.
"I was worried something like this would happen..." Elite murmured. "Unfortunately, I've already tried to console Black myself but clearly, it hadn't stuck."
"We did too." Shadow declared. "Nothing we said to him had any effect."
"And I used such a reasoned argument, too." Micro sighed.
"You know, as much as that son of a draft horse ticks me off, it kinda bites for me to see him in the dumps like that." Ballista admitted, "In spite of 'certain' factors, he is a great operative, and if he can't get over this, we might have a problem further down the line. We have to do something."
"Right." Elite nodded. "And I think that pony should be you."
"Beg pardon?" Ballista frowned.
"Makes sense." Micro nodded. "You are the only one who hasn't tried yet."
"Yeah, but in case you haven't noticed, me and Black aren't really seeing eye to eye right now." Ballista snorted. "Black actually likes all of you guys, and none of you could get him to listen. What would make me any different?"
"It wouldn't hurt to try, though." Shadow pointed out.
"It might..." Ballista retorted. "Black really knew how to throw punches back in Trottingham."
"Come on, Ballista." Elite urged. "Despite your personal differences, you're still teammates. A little support could go a long way."
"...Okay, I'll try." Ballista shrugged. "But don't expect any miracles."
"Thanks, Ballista." Elite smiled. "You're a real stand-up guy."
"Yeah, I'm a bleedin' saint..." Ballista rolled his eyes.
Balliista found Black in the break room, sitting in his preferred spot.
"Oh, it's you." Black scowled. "What do you want now?"
"Nice to see ya too, mate." Ballista snorted. "So, is this what yer plannin' on doin' nowadays? Just loungin' around, feelin' sorry fer yerself?"
"Well, sorry if me almost getting another friend killed isn't sitting right with me." Black glared. "It's not like I already got a friend killed... oh, wait..."
"Come on, Armory is going to be okay. A little worse for wear, but it isn't something you should still be beating yourself up over." Ballista declared.
"Well, that's your opinion." Black grimaced.
"Hmph, so much for the big, bad Black Knight Paladin." Ballista scoffed. "When we first met, I thought you to be a top-notch soldier. But when things get rough, you fold like laundry."
"Please." Black snorted. "I've been through all kinds of rough stuff. But some things are rougher than others..."
"Hey, I know what happened to Armory hit you pretty hard..." Ballista started.
"You don't know anything." Black scowled.
"The hell I don't." Ballista retorted, "I'll have you know, me posing as General Turret wasn't my first time being a General. Before I even met Elite, I was actually a General in Her Majesty's Armed Forces over in Londraft. For years, I've been a leader. Always had troops under my command. I did everything I could to guide them, look out for them, protect them. But I didn't always succeed. Sometimes, my boys got hurt, or worse. And sure, I felt guilty, like I could have done something, that I could have saved them. It's a lousy feeling, isn't it?"
"...Yeah." Black nodded. "Yeah, it is."
"I felt the same way you did the first time it happened to me." Ballista recalled. "This rambunctious little snot named Howitzer was the best soldier in my first platoon. He was smart, tough, and a great shot. Loyal, too. He really wanted to make his comrades proud. Everypony thought he'd go far. But on one of our early missions, he strayed from the group to try and take out some enemy snipers. I went after him, pulled him back, and gave him this speech about sticking with the group. But I was so intent on reading him the riot act, that I didn't notice I was in a sniper's sights. Howitzer pushed me aside just in time, and got himself shot in one of his rear legs."
"Oh, jeez..." Black cringed.
"That crossbow bolt servered some nerves." Ballista recalled. "That leg never worked right again, and Howitzer's military career was over." He sighed deeply. "I was so torn up about it. I was sure it was my fault, that I'd cost the kid any chance to be the soldier he was meant to be. I was depressed for a good long while."
"What happened then?" Black asked.
"Well, all the boys got together, and told me that they needed me." Ballista smiled. "They were broken up about Howitzer too, but they said that he would have wanted me to keep on going, and not let one slip-up stop me from doing my duty. And I realized they were right. You can't always protect every member of your squad, and you shouldn't beat yourself up for failing. In the end, each soldier makes his own choice. Howitzer chose to sacrifice his mobility for me, just as Armory chose to risk his life for you. Instead of feeling bad, you should feel proud that you inspire such loyalty in your comrades."
Black was silent for a moment, as Ballista's words and their meaning sank in. As much as he disliked Ballista at the moment, he couldn't the truths he spoke, truths born from similar experiences...
"...You're right." He nodded finally. "You know, I've been kicking myself for what happened to Armory... but he did choose to fight Sweet Tooth. Even though I couldn't save him... he did save me... and I am grateful for that."
"That's the ticket." Ballista smiled.
"Thanks, Ballista." Black declared. "I know we've had our differences lately..."
"Yeah, but at the end of the day, we have our similarities too." Ballista grinned. "And we're still teammates, all the way to the gates of Tartarus."
"That's true." Black nodded. "And so is Armory. When he gets out of that medical bay, I'm going to let him know how grateful I am to him."
"I bet he'll like that." Ballista grinned.
"And thanks again for the help... you old sourpuss." Black smirked.
"Anytime... ya hot-headed bugger." Ballista smiled.
Ballista departed, leaving Black to focus on his renewed confidence.
'No more beating myself up.' He thought. 'Things are gonna be just fine...'
Ballista returned to Elite's office soon after, informing his commanding office of his success.
"Excellent work, Ballista." Elite smiled. "I had a feeling you could pull it off."
"That makes one of us, chief." Ballista snorted. "Didn't think he'd listen to a word I said..."
"But you tried anyway." Elite pointed out. "And succeeded."
"It's almost like you knew I could get through to 'im." Ballista mused.
"Not exactly." Elite shrugged. "But I had a feeling that, for all your mutual animosity, Black still holds a measure of respect for you. And you were both far more cordial to each other, not too long ago, when he was a soldier, and you were his General. Something told me there was still a part of Black that still felt that spirit of camraderie."
"And you were right." Ballista nodded. "You sly bugger..."
"Guilty as charged." Elite chuckled. "I'm just glad Black's out of his funk, and Armory is on the road to recovery. It won't be long before the Taskforce and all its members will be back at the top of their game."
"Too right, mate." Ballista nodded. "A team like ours is like a clock. It works at its most efficient when all the parts are in tip-top shape."
"And it pleases me to say all this team's pieces will be so." Elite grinned. "Especially Black. Our top operative needs to be at his best, both physically and mentally. And you've helped balance that equation out again."
"Yeah..." Ballista smirked... only to let out a sigh. "But who knows how long that will last?"
"What do you mean, Ballista?" Elite frowned.
"You saw how Black was these past few days." Ballista declared. "And that was over Armory getting severly injured. If Armory had actually died... well, you saw his records."
"Oh crap, this again?" Elite grimaced. "Ballista, Black is going to be fine. Thanks to you, he will be back to himself in no time."
"I realize that, Elite." Ballista nodded slowly. "But it doesn't change the fact that we nearly bit the bullet on this one."
"I don't understand why you are still hung up about this." Elite crossed his hooves. "You were the one who pointed me to Black. You knew the risks we were making."
"I know." Ballista frowned. "All I'm saying is that we have to gird ourselves for when the inevitable happens. Because who knows how Black will take it when it does happen..."
"Look, Ballista, Black is going to be just fine. He's a trooper." Elite said firmly, "Everything is going to be okay..."
The present...
"Wow, I'm a little surprised to hear Ballista was the one who finally snapped you out of that funk." Fletcher admitted.
"So was I." Black smiled. "It was then that I started getting back some respect for the guy. Which was just as well, because I needed all the emotional support I could get while Armory was in recovery."
"Well, lucky for me, the recovery went smoothly." Armory declared, "I was up and out of bed a couple of weeks later, and I was finally back on my hooves. However..." Armory glanced at his left flank. "I got this lousy limp that's pretty much kept me out of the action ever since."
"That sucks." Caboose grimaced.
"Yeah, I was bummed at first." Armory admitted, "But then I just remind myself how bad it could have been. I was lucky to get out of that mess with just a limp."
"Indeed." Elite nodded, as he stepped forth. "But unfortunately, I was a bit too hasty to have said that everything was going to be okay..."